I slapped the card down into position with a laugh. “Hah! Black Fire versus your Frost Giant, meaning fire on ice alignment for times two with a base attack of six hundred times three, and, an AOE for your entire side. I win!” Alan groaned and spread his remaining cards out on the ground.

“No fair, since when do you have a Night Dragon card?” he complained, reaching out to pick it up.

I snatched the card up from the board before he could touch it. “Since last week,” I said smugly. “Strongest card in the game, and only five were made. There is no way you can beat me now.”

Alan was still trying to get a peek at the card, leaning across the board while I held the card triumphantly over my head, out of reach. “How much did that even cost you?”

“Only fifty bucks,” I said before adding, grudgingly, “in tax.”

“Oh my gosh.” Alan stared at me. “That’s insane!”

“You would’ve done the same,” I said, folding my arms defensively. “Besides, now no one can beat me. It’s perfect for the convention this weekend.”

“Almost no one,” he reminded me.

I glared at him. “Like anyone’s going to have that card. I’m pretty sure it’s just a myth.”

“Who makes up myths about Nightvale cards?”

“Uh, the same people who spend lots of money on them,” I said in a patronizing baby voice, picking up my cards from the board and placing them back in my deck. Alan made a face and began to gather up his deck. “And don’t even think about complaining on how you lost – come this weekend, you’ll have lost to the official champ.”

He glanced up at me. “You really think you can win the tournament?”

“Duh.” I rolled my eyes and folded my board up. “I’ve practically memorized every stat for every card. I always come up with great strategies, and with the Night Dragon, I’ve got a trump card in case I’m in a fix. There’s no way I can lose.”

I uncrossed my legs and got to my feet, sliding the board on to the shelf. “You do realize you’d be the first girl to win, right?” Alan asked as I turned the heater down, since we technically weren’t supposed to be heating the basement.

“That’s kind of the idea,” I told him as we headed upstairs. I sniffed at the air. “Ugh, mom made cookies.”

Alan smiled, knowing how I hated my mom’s cookies while he scarfed them down like they were made of pure sugar or something. “Imagine if someone found out you were BlackMage19 from the website, too. I still can’t believe you chose gremmage as your class. I mean, those are the bad guys.”

I shrugged, striding into the kitchen. “I’m all for supporting the good guys, but the baddies get such cool powers – I had to take the opportunity when I could. You’re always the good guy in the plot lines so what’s the big deal?”

“I don’t think nerddom can take one of the strongest online players being a sixteen year old girl from a town so small it hardly exists on a map.”

“Well then nerddom clearly needs a new queen.” I smirked at Alan. “And I’m going to start my reign by wiping the floor with everyone this weekend.”

“You’re not still talking about that silly convention, are you?” I turned around as my mom walked into the kitchen, picking up her apron from where she left it on the counter and tying it around her waist.

I sighed. “Yeah, I am.”

My mom was very good at keeping her face neutral as she pulled another batch of cookies from the oven. “I’d have thought you’d have come to your senses by now and given up that childish thing.”

My jaw clenched. “It’s not childish, it’s –” I forced myself to take a deep breath. “You know what, forget it. I’m going to the convention this weekend. I’ve got my ticket and you don’t even have to drive me. Alan’s taking his parents’ car.”

Alan looked up. “I am?” he asked through a mouthful of cookies.

I gave him a look. “Do you have a brain or is it just your stomach right now?”

“Sorry.” He swallowed and looked guilty. “I just like your mom’s cookies – she’s the only one that makes peanut butter and raisons.”

I tried not to gag as he reminded me what was in those. I didn’t know where the recipe first originated – maybe Poland or something – but it was certainly a nasty one for anyone with taste-buds or a non-Alan metabolism. The guy ate like there was no tomorrow, and yet was as thin as a stick. He didn’t even realize how many girls would want that.

My mom slid some more cookies in front of him. “You’re welcome to have more. Goodness know no one else in this house eats them.” She gave me a pointed look.

“You know,” I said sweetly, “you wouldn’t feel offended if you didn’t make them for us to not eat. Sorry mom, but, they’re gross!”

“They’re my grandmother’s recipe,” she reminded me, sounding scandalized. Sometimes it was like she was an alien.

“That doesn’t mean I’m gonna like them,” I said. I tried to give her a smile so she wouldn’t feel too bad and turned to Alan. “So remember you’ve got to pick me up by seven on Saturday morning. And don’t forget, or do I have to write it on your arm again?”

“It’s the Nightvale convention, I’m not going to forget,” he assured me, “and I only forgot to give you a lift home one time. Let it go!”

“Maybe. After this weekend at the earliest.” I grabbed his wrist. “Now come on, we should probably get that assignment done.” Alan grabbed a few more cookies before I hurriedly started dragging him towards the staircase going up.

“You didn’t do that first?” I ignored my mom’s outraged question and focused on moving Alan up the stairs as quickly as possible. So maybe Nightvale was a little higher on my list of priorities than an English assignment. I cared about it a lot more than Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice.

Ք

I scrambled around stuffing my wallet, a sweater, and a few other essentials into my bag as Alan honked the horn of his parents’ car insistently. “Come on, Nix!” he hollered. “We’re gonna be late!”

I doubted we’d be late, since we’d planned our departure to arrive nearly half an hour before the doors to the convention opened, but I hurried anyways. Grabbing my Nightvale deck I thrust my feet into a pair of boots and dashed outside to slide smoothly into the passenger’s seat.

The door clicked closed and Alan shifted the car into gear. I yanked the seat belt on so he wouldn’t complain. Alan pulled out of the driveway as I did up the laces on my combat boots, which looked great but were crap quality. “You need to chill, I wasn’t late,” I told him.

“I’m driving so I decide if you’re late or not,” he said testily. “Do you have any idea what I had to do to convince my parents’ to loan me the car for the day?” His stomach gurgled. “Hey, do you have anything to eat?”

“Yes, but for me, not you,” I replied.

“Selfish,” he grumbled.

“Shut up and drive.”

Alan spared a second to glare at me before the road took over his attention. I smirked as I pulled out one of those natural granola bars, intentionally munching on it loudly. I leaned back in the seat and probably would’ve tried to put my feet on the dashboard, except I knew that was stupid. Instead I put on the car radio.

The car ride into the city was terribly long and boring. We lived at least an hour by freeway away, and that was going seventy-five miles per hour with no traffic. We did not have such luck and ended up taking closer to an hour and a half, which we’d thankfully assumed.

The parking lot of the convention centre was already jam packed, as Alan delightedly emphasized with his swearing. “It’s eight thirty in the damn morning. Why the hell are there so many?”

“I told you we should’ve gotten here earlier. All the serious fans would have been here an hour before it opens,” I replied.

“Do you have any idea how many cups of coffee I’d need to drive that early in the morning?”

“Three. One before you left, another while getting me, and a third to nurse throughout the drive.”

“I was thinking more like five.”

“And then you’d have to use the bathroom every five minutes. Oh, look, there’s a spot.”

Alan just gave me a look as he pulled into the open stall.

We parked quickly and got out. I slung my bag over my shoulder as Alan locked the car and we began the rather long walk to the entrance. There was quite a line outside, and we were forced to march all the way over to the end, which wrapped around to another side of the building.

Several of the attendees were in costume, dressed up as either magical creatures or specific characters from the game. Quite a few were skillfully done, and others looked like thrown together homemade things.

Alan leaned over to me. “Some of these folks make you look like a half-ass fan,” he commented.

I scowled. “So I’m not a cosplayer. Shoot me.”

We reached the end of the line and I quickly darted in to grab the next spot from some others. Alan sighed and joined me. I didn’t know what his problem was. Half an hour until the Nightvale convention opened, and I couldn’t wait. Shivering slightly in the cool air of mid-September, it felt like forever before the line finally started to move.